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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28156446">Of Buttercup and Mistletoe</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alliswell/pseuds/Alliswell'>Alliswell</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Buttercup’s shenanigans, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Holidays, Humor, One Shot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 22:46:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,394</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28156446</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alliswell/pseuds/Alliswell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bring out the popcorn and hot cocoa, because this one is just chock full of Everlark Christmas shenanigans!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Hunger Games 2020 Season of Hope Holiday Gift Exchange</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Of Buttercup and Mistletoe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elricsister/gifts">Elricsister</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Merry Christmas everyone specially to my Secret Santa: Elricsister, who deserves the best stories out there! Hopefully, this one fulfills your prompt!</p><p><b>Disclaimer: </b>there’s one “F bomb” and some sex references in this fic, without the smut.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <span class="u"> <em>Peeta’s POV</em> </span> </strong>
</p><p>I can see my breath every time I exhale.</p><p>Warm air leaving my nostrils, swirling into fog as soon as it collides with the frigid outside air. Is a nippy one for sure!</p><p>How did my girlfriend convince me to come to the woods with her with this much snow, I will never know… It probably has to do with my inability to ever say no to her sparkling, gray eyes, and the fact that she gets extra cuddly when I start rubbing Bengay cream on my bad leg after a hike like today’s.</p><p>I don’t use my injury to score cuddles, though, Katniss is not one to do things— or show affection— out of pity; is one of the many reason why I love her!</p><p>Truly, I don’t need too much incentive to spend time with her, even when these freezing conditions promise to bring a world of pain on my stumpy leg later on. When Katniss is out here in the wilderness, she comes out of her shell completely, and a playful, mischievous side of her personality let’s lose, which I adore and look forward to… that’s exactly why I need to keep my wits about myself right now.</p><p>I inhale a mouthful of cold air, deep into my lungs, and release it again to see a bigger cloud of fog, before remembering I’m supposed to be hiding my position…</p><p>Too late!</p><p>A snow ball wheezes by an inch from ear, only to splatter wetly into the bark of the tree directly behind me.</p><p>I curse Katniss’ accurate aim!</p><p>It’s unfair! She’s practically an Olympiad.</p><p>She made the Sharp Shooter Squad of the archery team her freshman year of high school and it’s only gotten better with age.</p><p>I hear giggling to my right, and smile devilishly to myself.</p><p>“Wotcha!” I mumble under my breath, pinpointing her location behind an outcropping of stones when the smog of her breath betrays her.</p><p>I step out of my hiding spot, and throw my snowball without bothering to aim. I’m not looking to hit her yet, just flush her out from her cover.</p><p>There’s a thud followed by a groan.</p><p>“Hey!”</p><p>I can’t help my chuckle, “Did I actually get you?” I ask, peeking the bearest of bits from behind my tree, hoping to spy my handy work.</p><p>“Yeah,” she grouses, but before I can duck, her next projectile hits my temple, and I’m momentarily stunned.</p><p>She cackles, coming out from behind the rocks, holding her sides, and I just drop to my knees and fist a handful of snow, throwing it at her in a fluid motion.</p><p>I hit her square in the chest, catching her off guard.</p><p>We stare at each other, frozen for a beat, and then all hell breaks loose.</p><p>I dive behind my tree, scrambling for fresh snow to pack, while golf ball size pellets keep flashing by.</p><p>“Stop it!”</p><p>“Never!”</p><p>By the time I throw my first ball, Katniss has torpedoed 20 of those miniature ones, and I end up with a mouthful of snow and freezing chunks of the stuff trickling down my neck and into the inner layers of my clothing. My thin gloves are also caked in ice and snow… I can barely feel my fingers anymore. I just need to get her once, and then I can finally call it quits. Surrender.</p><p>I plunge my hands into the powder, and then, slowly shift around my cover, preparing to make a run towards her hiding place on a crazy Hail Mary.</p><p>Katniss had the same idea apparently, because we are suddenly face to face, wielding ammo on the ready. I crank my arm and release it at the same time she does, and miraculously both snowballs splash into each other, exploding flurry all around us.</p><p>The snow falls to the ground gracelessly, and Katniss and I stare at the lump of nothing that used to be our snowballs. We laugh at the anticlimactic ending to our snow ball fight, and lean into each other to brush snow off one another between kisses and giggles.</p><p>“That was sad,” she snorts.</p><p>“It wasn’t all bad… I got you once!”</p><p>She rolls her eyes. “That was a freak accident!”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah…”</p><p>Her stomach growls, and in the quiet of the woods, padded with all the freshly fallen snow on the ground and tree branches, the sounds travels louder than usual.</p><p>I arch my eyebrows, “Either you’re morphing into the abominable snow woman, or your belly is trying to tell me something,” I joke.</p><p>Katniss socks me on the arm. “Hey, I seem to remember something about fresh Christmas cookies or something along those lines…”</p><p>“Fine,” I shrug, and before she can react, I dive for her waist with my whole body, and throw her over my shoulder like a sack of flour.</p><p>“Peeta!” My girl screeches.</p><p>“Let’s get your Sasquatch belly some refreshments, shall we?”</p><p>I carry her out of the woods like I’m the real<br/>
Sasquatch, and she’s a deer I just caught for lunch.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u"> <em>Katniss POV</em> </span> </strong>
</p><p>Peeta and I moved in together less than a year ago, and it’s certainly been a learning experience… for example, I never knew my beloved boyfriend was near manic in the way he likes to keep his kitchen organized.</p><p>Sure, we store and prepare our food in here, and I appreciate the fact that he’s a baker and treats his working spaces with respect and professionalism; I enjoy how immaculate and orderly the room is at all times, but the man’s anal to a fault and drives me crazy at times. Not a measuring cup moves without his say so. And Lord save me if I dare stuff a to-go container of food directly in the fridge before properly moving it to one of his prized Tupperware containers… what man cares about that kind of stuff, anyway? But, I have to admit, compulsiveness aside, I love my boy!</p><p>Today, we’re making cookies and brownies for a party we are attending later in the evening.</p><p>He’s working on the cookie dough, while directing me as I  mix and measure the brownie batter.</p><p>I’m mindless whisking away when a swooshing, fluffy tail grazes my naked calf, making me jump out of my skin, shrieking.</p><p>Peeta jumps too, reactionarily, then looks at me quizzically. “You okay?”</p><p>I wave him off, my right hand on my chest as if I could calm my beating heart that way, while holding on to the table with the other hand, so I can rub the top of my foot over the spot where Buttercup— my sister’s cat— touched me, to rid my skin of the sensation the fluffy brute left behind.</p><p>My sister, Primrose, is moving from her university campus housing, into a new apartment with her best friend and now roommate, Rue; so we are cat sitting her monster pet— the world’s ugliest feline, with mustard color eyes and coat, that Prim swears reminds her of a buttercup in bloom— until she gets all her stuff taken care of, and can come pick him up.</p><p>I’m convinced the little beast still remembers when I tried to drown him after Prim brought him home, half dead and flea ridden almost five years ago; the cat still distrusts me, despite striking a truce between us when he started hunting mice and rats at my mother’s place.</p><p>The beast stands a foot away from me, and I swear he smiles evilly before swishing his fluffy tail and strutting away.</p><p>“I swear he knows what he did, and does it on purpose!” I grumble, going back to mixing.</p><p>“What did he do exactly?”</p><p>“He brushed against my leg. He kinda scared me.”</p><p>“Sorry,” he says genuinely. “I’m not sure why you two have such animosity between you. Buttercup is perfectly nice to me.”</p><p>“I know,” I say darkly. But I refuse to dwell on the cat’s antics and lift my beater to show Peeta the batter’s consistency, “what do you think?”</p><p>“Perfect! I’m almost done with this dough too!”</p><p>I get the pans and cookie sheets ready to bake, the way Peeta taught me, then I turn on the oven to preheat, while Peeta dumps the dough on the counter to roll out and cut into Christmas-y shapes.</p><p>I turn to let him know everything’s ready to start baking, when a loud crash, closely followed by a feline screech fills the otherwise quiet house.</p><p>We both react by staring at each other with widen eyes, before taking off running into the living room.</p><p>I gasp at the disaster waiting for us in the middle of the room: our Christmas tree— twinkling lights and all— lies on top of the coffee table, ornaments scattered all over the place like there’s been a Christmas massacre and the culprit is at large.</p><p>I growl, “I’m gonna kill that monster!”</p><p>Peeta sighs, rubbing his forehead, shoulders dropping slightly.</p><p>It took us weeks to decide on whether or not getting a tree. We made an event out of it when we finally settled on getting a natural one from a farm, and decorating it was such an espectacular time, we ended up making love on the rug beneath the soft lights.</p><p>Of course as soon as Buttercup saw the tree he was entranced by it, and decided he would bother it as much as possible. We’ve tried discouraging the stupid cat from even getting close to our tree, but he doesn’t pay me no heed… <em>beast</em>!</p><p>“I guess it’s a good thing I bought  shatterproof ornaments,” Peeta chuckles weakly, bending over to pick up a shiny, red sphere with a sparkly design on it. It wasn’t fancy, or custom made, but those were our first ornaments we bought together, and thus they were special. </p><p>“I suppose,” I bite my lip, “it’s kinda poetic if you think about it…” I snatch up a blue ornament from under the couch.</p><p>“How?” He picks up a green and another red.</p><p>“Well, since Buttercup came to live with us last week, we’ve fought over crap he’s done, and stuff he’s broken or eaten, but we are Buttercup resistant, mostly… and that’s pretty much our whole relationship. Some disaster comes along, tosses our lives around, then we land on the ground unscathed, because we are shatterproof, and we get up…” I pull the tree right side up, grimacing at the mess of dirty water seeping into the rug, “and then we are good as new,” I say, placing the blue ornament on a branch with a flourish.</p><p>Peeta looks up at me then, something shifting in his blue eyes, and then hope starts filling his face.</p><p>“You’re right,” he comes up to me, wrapping me into a tight hug, “we are shatterproof, and we’re taking away Buttercup’s bacon privileges for being a naughty kitten.”</p><p>I groan in my boyfriend's arms. “You’re still feeding him bacon? Behind my back?”</p><p>“It’s not behind your back if you already know it!” He gives me an irritated glare, “besides, he’s very polite and always leaves enough for the neighborhood feral.”</p><p>“What?!”</p><p>He starts laughing, tightening his hold on me when I try to push off.</p><p>“I’m just kidding!” He kisses my lips sweetly.</p><p>“Then why are you still laughing at me?”</p><p>“I’m not laughing at you, babe.” He kisses my temple, and I melt into his chest. “Come on, let’s finish baking those treats, before ButterKrampus comes back to make trouble.”</p><p>“I still think taking away his bacon isn’t a punishment, since he’s not supposed to have bacon to begin with.”</p><p>We clean up the mess my sister’s cat left behind, and then go back to the kitchen to finish our baking.</p><p>Buttercup doesn’t show his squished up face until well into the evening, when he thinks we’ve forgotten about his naughty behavior… Peeta let’s him climb into our bed with us, because he doesn’t have the heart to stay mad at him, and then my mind runs away from me thinking: <em>is this what he’ll be like as a father?</em> <em>Couldn’t stay mad at the children, so he’d pick them up in his arms and give them a cookie before supper?</em></p><p>I gasp at the image, and can’t breathe for a second.</p><p>I never wanted to have children myself; never considered it an option until now, at least, because what I see in my mind’s eye, the child Peeta is cuddling in my imagination, has blonde curls like all the Mellarks, and gray eyes, like mine! This imaginary boy is clearly <em>our</em> son, and honestly, the idea doesn’t frighten me as much as it ought to.</p><p>When I wake up the next morning, I have a feeling of contentment in my chest linked to Peeta, and I know my fears about marriage and children are slowly crumbling down, and I’m okay with it.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<span class="u"> <em> <strong>Peeta’s POV:</strong> </em> </span>
</p><p>“Katniss, Peeta! Come on in!” Calls out Finnick, throwing the door to his house wide open for us to file in. “Welcome to casa de Odair!” He says with a terrible accent that would make any Hispanic cringe.</p><p>“Hi, buddy!” I give Finnick a big hug, since he’s one of the very few men I know will return the gesture without reservations.</p><p>Finnick claps my back at the end of the embrace, then smiles at Katniss, who’s  trailing behind me with a tray of cookies and some gift bags.</p><p>“Hello Finnick, we made triple chocolate brownies, but I'm warning you, remember to share with everyone!” Katniss fixes him with a glare for good measure.</p><p>“Do I have to?” Finnick pouts, his sea green eyes shining with mischief. At my girlfriend’s scowl, he chuckles and calls over his shoulder, “Annie, babe, the desserts have arrived!”</p><p>A willowy woman, thin and delicate, peeks her head from the kitchen to greet us.</p><p>“Hi,” she says shyly, gathering her auburn hair into a ponytail as she approaches us. “Thank you for coming. I can take those,” she offers with open arms, protruding pregnant stomach working as a tray of sorts when Katniss hands over her cookies. </p><p>“Hi, Annie,” Katniss smiles softly, taking off her puffy coat.</p><p>”I’ll come with you,” I offer, “You have your arms full already.”</p><p>We march into the kitchen to deposit my freshly baked batch of brownies, since it seems hardly fair that Annie should carry everything herself while also carrying her unborn child. </p><p>“How have you been?” I ask.</p><p>Annie’s green eyes stare at nothing for a second, before blinking and smiling faintly at me, “I’ve been well,” she says with surety, “Thanks for asking. I had a doctor’s appointment for the baby, and they gave me great reports all around. How about you?” She motions quickly to my leg.</p><p>I smile widely and shrug, “I still feel the need to scratch the sole of my missing foot from time to time, but it’s not too bad.”</p><p>Annie nods, and we busy ourselves placing the sweets on the table, in companionable silence.</p><p>It’s nice not having to dig deep into our stressants, but it’s also nice to be able to share about them just in passing.</p><p>A few more friends arrive: Johanna and her on again off again boyfriend Blight; Katniss’ cousin, Gale and his wife, Madge, who’s Katniss’ best friend from school; then we have my high school bestie, Delly and her <em>friend</em> Thresh, who still can’t take a hint despite the many flares and “welcome” banners Delly has been hitting him on the face with. Bringing in the rear, late as ever, is my brother, Ryen, with his wife Leevy. The fun finally begins!</p><p>We agreed beforehand on playing a game of Dirty Santa, capping the price at $15, and since we know the dirtiest Santa of all is Johanna, we put in place certain rules way before tonight. Finnick has emailed and texted everyone the rules at least twice since we accepted his invitation for his holiday dinner.</p><p>All the presents will be on a table, wrapped and visible. Then we are sorting numbers, and whoever gets #1 will start the game, giving the first present to person #2. Then that person will have the option to open their gift and keep it, or exchange it for a different gift on the table. Once the gift has been settled on, the #2 person will give the present they brought to the #3 person, and then this person can choose to either keep their gift, take a new one from the table, or ‘forcibly swap’ presents with anyone who’s already gotten a gift.</p><p>This is when things get tricky. If someone gets their gift taken, they can choose a new one from the table or steal back theirs. But an item can only be taken twice, before it’s out of the game. And if you brought a present, but was taken from the table by someone before you had the chance to give it out, then you have to give away the discarded item left on the table.</p><p>It’s not as complicated once we start playing it.</p><p>Johanna still tries to trick everyone though, so we have to amend the rules, to add one where a person can only swap presents twice. Then she finds a way to manipulate Blight’s turn for her advantage, and we all groan at her antics.</p><p>The night ends with everyone blissfully full of great food and buzzed with wine and spiced cider.</p><p>Katniss has to drive us home afterwards, because I’m in no shape to do it myself, which gives me the opportunity to paw at her from my seat and try to seduce her while she glares at me and valiantly slaps my wandering hands away from her.</p><p>When we get home, she laughs at my attempt at picking her up and throwing her over my shoulder, fireman style. I fail miserably, because I keep tripping on my own feet.</p><p>“Come on you slosh,” she calls, ducking me easily, and grabbing my arm to help me up the steps to our house.</p><p>“I love you,” I sigh into her neck while she’s distracted, unlocking the door.</p><p>“I love you, too.” She says. I can hear the smile in her voice.</p><p>“Kat… what are the chances of me getting lucky tonight?” I ask sheepishly, when she tugs on my coat sleeve to shuffle inside the warm house.</p><p>“Mmm… a solid 3 out of 10.” She says unzipping her puffer jacket, before hanging it on the rack. She kicks her boots off too, because she hates wearing shoes in the house.</p><p>I stay by the closed door, fiddling with my own zipper. “But… I’m so horny!” I whine, making her snort out a chuckle.</p><p>It’s true though. My dick hurts a little every time I move and my jeans chafe against my erection.</p><p>Katniss helps me out of my coat, while slapping my hands away from perky little tits. When her sparkling, gray eyes find mine, a smirk sits prettily on her face.</p><p>“Come on big boy, let’s get you in bed,”</p><p>“To <em>fuck</em>?” I whisper hopefully, widening my eyes, hoping they look like a begging puppy, instead of ridiculous.</p><p>Katniss’ shoulders shake in silent laughter; she shakes her head ruefully, but says nothing. I guess my attempt at being cute failed.</p><p>I trail after her, moodily, until she shrieks and jumps back, crashing into my chest. I sober up instantly, pushing her behind my back, eyes and ears alert to whatever threatened  my girl, and when I see nothing amiss, I turn to look at her.</p><p>Katniss is peeling her wooly socks off her feet while grumbling a litany of curses under her breath.</p><p>“What happened?” I ask, stumped.</p><p>“Buttercup! Buttercup happened!” She hisses angrily.</p><p>I turn back and look down, to cat level, and see what looks like a blob of hair and puke and whatever else nastiness comes from a cat when they regurgitate hair balls.</p><p>“Gross!” Katniss shudders, and then slinks around me, on her way to our bedroom. “I’m gonna go shower off the sensation of stepping in sick…”</p><p>I sigh, spying our resident troublemaker swishing his tail from the back rest of the couch, looking extremely pleased with himself.</p><p>“I think she might be unto something about you, pal,” I tell Buttercup, who only yawns at me, bored already. “No more bacon, and this time I mean it!” I’m sure his stunt just lowered my chances of getting laid from a solid 3 out of 10, to a zero. “Thanks, pal.” I scowl. </p><p>I set to clean up the floor, wondering how much longer until Prim comes to collect her menace of a pet?</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<strong> <span class="u"> <em>Katniss’ POV</em> </span> </strong>
</p><p>Peeta’s limp is more pronounced than usual when he makes it back to our room.</p><p>I scowl at that.</p><p>He comes into our en-suite bathroom, and tells me in a soft voice, “I cleaned up the living room. I’m washing my hands now,” he warns me, before turning on the sink faucet, which makes the shower water get a few degrees colder.</p><p>I bite my lip guiltily. He probably aggravated his bad leg kneeling or bending over to wipe the floor from Buttercup’s hair ball.</p><p>I peek my head from behind the shower curtain, and take in my boyfriend’s shapely rear, hungrily. <br/>
 <br/>
Say what you must about a boy who eats more bread than it’s necessary, but my man sure is YU-MMY! </p><p>Plus, he’s so sweet and considerate, even while drunk!</p><p>“My hero,” I say in a sultry tone that has him looking back at me, arching his dark blonde eyebrows, “thank you for taking care of that mess for me. If you’d like to join me here... I may give you a reward for your troubles,” I say, sticking my arm from behind the curtain  to curl my finger in a come hither motion.</p><p>“Really?!” He asks breathlessly, “What happened to the solid 3 out of—? You know what, it doesn’t matter baby, I’ll take it!” Peeta scrambles up, wrestling his sweater over his head and kicking off his pants comically, to get into the shower with me.</p><p>I giggle when he whoops in victory, and retreat further into the shower, giving myself room, since I plan to drop to my knees as soon as he steps into the spray.</p><p>After all, his prize is well deserved!</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
My sister calls to let me know she and my mother are on their way here, and I’m giddy with happiness, partly because I’ll see my family soon, but mostly because Buttercup’s reign of terror is at its zenith!</p><p>“Your mom is on her way, you mean old grinch!” I tell the cat, scooping him up from my couch and squeezing him until he meowls in aggravation.</p><p>“My mother’s coming? Here?” Peeta comes running from the kitchen, oven mitts in both hands and flour streaks on his cheek. His eyes are wide, almost crazed.</p><p>I chuckle. “No! Not <em>your</em> mom… Buttercup’s! Prim just called. She and my mother are about an hour out, heading this way.”</p><p>“Oh…” Peeta deflates, “good… don’t— don’t scare me like that. I’m not ready for a spontaneous visit from my folks.”</p><p>“Neither am I.” I say under my breath as my boyfriend shuffles back to the kitchen, looking relieved.</p><p>Is not that we don’t like his parents, it's just they’re always so awkward to be around.</p><p>Mrs. Mellark used to be very free with her physical punishments when Peeta was growing up, and Mr. Mellark is as quiet as a tomb. He makes me look like a chatterbox in comparison. It doesn’t help much that Peeta’s mother keeps making snide, little remarks at how inappropriate it is for us to live together without being married.</p><p>The truth is, we didn’t actually plan on this either. We just happened to stumble upon the opportunity to buy this house… which was conveniently a 30 minute drive from our respective parents, yet close enough for our daily commute to work, we just jumped at the chance without giving ourselves time to second guess our choice.</p><p>I love Peeta with all my heart. It took me a while to admit it to myself, and even longer to admit it to him with words, but I’ve known this is where I wanted to end up. Peeta reminds me a lot of my late father… his humor, and the way he treats me, like I’m the most special woman in the world; but after my father died, my mother lost herself to grief and we had a very dark few years until she finally was able to come out of her funk. Ever since then I’ve tried to steer away from romance and the possibility of having a family of my own. If I was alone, there was no risk of hurting anyone when things got inevitably bad.</p><p>Peeta showed me wrong, though. I’m slowly but surely changing my mind about marriage and children, but it still spooks me at times. My boyfriend has been very understanding and supportive of me, and that’s why he’s helped me turn my fears around.</p><p>I’ll have to tell him at some point that it’s okay to think about marriage in our future, but I don't know how to bridge the subject just yet.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<span class="u"> <em> <strong>Peeta’s POV</strong> </em> </span>
</p><p>Prim arrives just after my popovers finish baking, and I almost burn them with the greetings, hugs and happy reunion.</p><p>“How did the move go?” I ask Primrose, pulling my tray of treats out of the oven, grimacing down at the almost too brown crust.</p><p>“Oh it was great! My roommate, Rue, brought her father to help, and the man had our furniture sorted and settled in half the time it took us to get it into the truck to begin with. So yeah, it was good. We also met the next door neighbor, and I think he’s got a crush on Rue!” She squeals, excitedly.</p><p>“But, is the new place nice?” I insist, smiling at her.</p><p>“Oh! So much nicer than the school dorms! Seriously, Peet, I swear just the lighting in that place sucks the joy out of life, ugh!” She grabs her long, blonde braid, almost as long as Katniss’ now, and twists it into a bun at the base of her neck. “Alright, either you put me to work right now, or I’m gonna fall asleep on your kitchen counter.” She says, smiling brightly.</p><p>I chuckle.</p><p>Buttercup who was placidly asleep on her lap most sense his mom’s nervous energy zoom, because he hops out of her lap, and glares at her before scampering away.</p><p>I pass a cutting board and a knife to Prim, so she can help chop up stuff for a salad, while I brown some ground beef for spaghetti sauce. I already have garlic knots baking in the oven, and I know Katniss will come back from showing her mother her newly planted edible garden with a few green sprigs of something to add to the food.</p><p>Katniss was very proud of her garden, and so was Mrs. Everdeen. The garden is currently potted in planters Katniss keeps in the tool shed, she converted into a greenhouse of sorts for the winter. Prim saw the garden already when she came to drop Buttercup off, and she said she’s been up since 6:30 am, so she decided to stay inside and “rest”.</p><p>After an early dinner, since it’s still light outside, the Everdeen women decide to visit a little nursery just outside of our little town, where they carry a few medicinal herbs they’re all excited about. I tag along just in case they need a strong, muscular lad to heavy lift for them. They smile and giggle when I say this aloud, so I’m glad I was actually joking, and not putting my macho ego out there to get bruised up.</p><p>I’m surprised at how well stocked the people at nursery are for the beginning of winter. They have all kinds of plants, green and bright as if we were in the middle of spring instead. It truly is mesmerizing.</p><p>Prim hoots somewhere farther up, and calls one of the attendants, but I don’t really pay attention to what she’s getting, until she starts loading the car with a bushel of freshly cut mistletoe. She’s ecstatic about it too, although I’m not quite sure why she’s so happy about a bunch of greenery we can’t eat on account of it being poisonous. </p><p>At least all of the ladies are happy; even Katniss seems relaxed and content on our way back home. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and things are nice and harmonious, what could go wrong?</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong> <em>Katniss’ POV</em> </strong> </span>
</p><p>Christmas Eve morning we wake up to a house decked out with leafy green boughs hanging from every possible archway, door frame, light fixture, or ceiling fan.</p><p>There’s so much mistletoe hanging above our heads, it feels like we’re walking under a woodland canopy, and not a house in the suburbs.</p><p>I’m afraid to ask where did Prim even get the red ribbon she tied around the sprigs she’s hung everywhere?</p><p>“Hey, Katniss…” Peeta calls from the living room.</p><p>I follow his voice, and find him sitting on the floor, right next to the Christmas tree, pulling out presents from under it and placing them in one of two piles on each side of his legs.</p><p>“Yeah?” I try to get his attention.</p><p>“Oh, hey!”</p><p>“Hey,”</p><p>“Um… don't get mad,” he says rubbing his neck in exasperation and a little bit of anxiety. My hackles go up right away, but then he continues and all my defensiveness evaporate into nothing. “We might need to re-wrap some of these, from when Buttercup knocked over the tree two days ago, and spilled all that tree water all over the place.”</p><p>I groan. <em>Of course!</em></p><p>“That’s fine. But we should do it now, so we are not rushing in the morning.”</p><p>All of the sudden, a shrill squeal reverberates all over the house, startling me and Peeta.</p><p>“Oh my gosh! You guys!” Prim’s standing not a foot away from us, clapping excitedly, “You’re under the mistletoe! You gotta kiss!” She informs us, before screeching like an annoying squirrel.</p><p>It’s true. There’s a small twig of mistletoe hanging precariously from the ceiling fan, almost directly above us. Since Peeta is sitting on the floor with his legs sprawled out before him, I lean down, and kiss him on the forehead.</p><p>“Aww! You guys are so cute!” Sighs my sister, dramatically.</p><p>“Mmm,” it’s all I say.</p><p>“Okay, I just came here to tell you both that mother and I made breakfast, and it’s getting cold, now, so come eat!”</p><p>I help Peeta up, and promise him we’ll re-wrap the gifts after breakfast, and then we make our way to the dining room to join my family.</p><p>Prim’s watching our progress through the house, zealously demanding we kiss every time we’re near one of her mistletoe little traps. Ugh, I thought the little bundles swinging from my ceiling were cute, until Primrose started badgering everyone with the kissing tradition.</p><p>Its gonna be a long day!</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>As it turns out, we all need to wrap presents, so after breakfast has been cleared, we fold and put away the festive tablecloth I dressed  our dining table with, and turn the room into a gift wrapping station.</p><p>So many ribbons, scotch tape, and paper!</p><p>Peeta insists on playing Bing Crosby music, and Prim keeps stopping her wrapping to spin either my mother or me into an impromptu dance, then return to curling ribbons, like nothing happened.</p><p>Buttercup has been on his best behavior so far, laying on a strip of sun filtering through a window pane, asleep. I’m watching him like a hawk, because I don’t trust him anymore.</p><p>I glare at the fur ball. I wouldn’t have to be wasting wrapping paper if it wasn’t for him, but then again, we wouldn’t be having a spur of the moment party either, so I guess I should stop being crossed with him and enjoy this rare easy going holiday time with my loved ones. We’ve all been so busy, and we now live all on our own, it’s nice to be under the same roof if only for a couple of days, before we start getting into each other’s nerves. </p><p>Contemporary Christmas music starts playing, and Peeta breaks out his precious wooden spoons to use as pretend microphones. He, of course makes me sing <em>Oh Holy Night</em>, and stares at me the whole time with starry eyes.</p><p>I chuckle when Prim pushes us over, so we end up standing under mistletoe… again, and demands we kiss. Peeta dips me low 50’s style, smacking a loud smooch on my lips. </p><p>That evening, we gather around the Christmas tree with our pristinely wrapped presents, and start exchanging gifts, with a roaring fire burning in the chimney.</p><p>It’s all so festive and cozy, nothing could prepare me when my mother opens a gift from me to her, and out she brings a pair of very inappropriately festive boxers, that would definitely make the naughty list.</p><p>I blanch when my mother holds aloft the pair of plaid underwear with a very distinct mistletoe embellishment on the front, where a man’s junk would fit snugly.</p><p>“Um… I don’t think—“ my mother shoves the garment into the box, and passes it to me, “I doubt these were for me.” She says quietly, her cheeks are slightly pink, yet she looks a lot more collected than I feel when I take the box from her, and woodenly pass it to Peeta, whose face is actually flaming.</p><p>My boyfriend proceeds to set the box besides him on the floor, like it contains explosives, and covers it with a throw blanket from the couch. </p><p>Prim can’t hold her laughter in, which makes this awkward situation even worse.</p><p>“I’m sorry!” I say quickly. “I’m not sure how that got there… it was… I mean, it’s a private present, and I had it clearly labeled... I must’ve swap them when we re-wrapped. I’m so sorry!” I wished the ground would split open and swallow me whole.</p><p>“They look… comfy,” Peeta says, trying to help I’m sure, meanwhile, I give him a death glare to shut him up.</p><p>“Oh, the material is very soft,” says my mother conversationally, “seems like it’ll be breathable too.”</p><p>“Good to know! I hate clingy material in undergarments.”</p><p>“Oh God!” I groan, covering my face with an accent pillow. I can’t believe my mother is having an amiable conversation with my boyfriend about the ‘Kiss me there’ pair of suggestive boxers I was hoping to give him later tonight. In private. For my eyes only!</p><p>Before I die of embarrassment, Buttercup saves the evening by knocking down one of the stockings— heavy stocking holder and all— hanging from the mantle, spilling all sorts of candy and little knickknacks all over the floor. Of course the cat goes for the candy and tries to run away and hide to eat his contraband, but my sister catches him before he can go far.</p><p>Prim chastises her pet like he’s a bad behaved toddler instead of an evil genius.</p><p>Peeta rolls his eyes, and goes to pick up the mess, while my mother starts gathering dirty mugs we drank hot chocolate from, off the coffee table.</p><p>While nobody is looking, I scratch tiny nemesis’ head affectionately, “Thank you, Buttercup, for distracting them after the gift mixed up fiasco. I guess bacon is back on the menu for you… merry Christmas, boy!”</p><p>In a surprising move, Buttercup nuzzles into my hand, as if he knows exactly we are having a moment here, and he’s accepting it. The affectionate gesture lasts only a minute before he gets bored, and shifts away from my touch to continue sleeping while stand there, being ignored.</p><p>It’s okay, everything is better now that he’s going home in a couple of days.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<span class="u"> <em> <strong>Peeta’s POV</strong> </em> </span>
</p><p>We went to bed later than we planned, jet, as soon as my girlfriend’s head hit her pillow, she started snoring softly. I sighed. Whatever sexy times plan she had in mind, died the moment her mother pulled those boxers out of the box. </p><p>Oh well... there’s always next year.</p><p>We are supposed to be at my parents house for Christmas brunch around 9:30. Prim and Mrs. Everdeen are coming along with us, minus Buttercup, who I doubt will notice we’re gone, since Katniss sprinkled his bowl of cat chow with bits of Turkey bacon.</p><p>When I arch my brow inquisitively, at her uncharacteristic generous gesture, she shrugs and says, “It’s Christmas,” and turns on her heel, not giving any further explanation. </p><p>We pile in my car after a quick argument of whose car has the bigger trunk to carry all the presents for my nephews, and still give us decent leg room, and we take off to my childhood home, loaded with gifts and fresh fruit because my father refuses to let me or my brothers bake anything for our holiday meals together.</p><p>As always, holidays at my parents’ house is a subdued, quiet affair. Soft, instrumental Christmas music plays quietly in the stereo while we eat, and when is time to open presents, the volume goes down exactly three notches. Conversations are also quiet, just above a whisper, which I still can’t understand how even the children get brain washed about.</p><p>“May I help clean up?” Offers Mrs. Everdeen after brunch, while everyone is heading to the den to open presents.</p><p>“No, no, dear. You’re our guest today, go make yourself at home,” demures my mother with a smile that doesn’t reach her pale blue eyes.</p><p>“I don’t mind, plus you should be enjoying yourself with your grand babies,” Katniss’ mother insists.</p><p>“Oh, it won’t take me a minute. I’ll be right there with everyone!”</p><p>“If you’re sure…”</p><p>My mother gathers her fine, festive China from the table and puts it in the dishwasher herself, because Lord forbid one of her plates clink with a fork or something sharp, leaving a scratch behind, or worse… break her precious dishes!</p><p>My nephews open their presents first, and my mother is back to see them gush over their new toys just five minutes after, so she can lament the mess of wrapping paper shredded on her impeccable floors. </p><p>My father passes presents around for me and my brothers and our significant others after the children are done with their gifts and settle to play with their new toys. My mother even has a couple of small gifts for Mrs. Everdeen and Prim, which I personally appreciate and are grateful for. </p><p>And then, my hands start sweating and I feel like the air has become too thin to breathe in.</p><p>“Are you okay? You’re looking kinda green,” says Katniss, squeezing my hand, worriedly.</p><p>“I’m— I’m okay, really. I just…” I push my hand into my pants pocket clumsily, and pull out a small velvet box out of it.</p><p>Katniss gasps, her beautiful gray eyes widen, and there, deep within I see her flight reflexes engage, so I clamp down my hand on her wrist, to keep her there, just as my mother opens her big mouth to exclaim what she erroneously thinks she’s seeing.</p><p>“Peeta, are you finally proposing? It’s about time you kids make your living situation official!”</p><p>An avalanche of female “Awww”s fills the room, and Katniss tugs back her arm, ready to bolt; so I squeeze just a little tighter on her wrist.</p><p>“No, mother, I’m not proposing!” I snap, staring directly into Katniss’ terrified eyes, “I’m offering my girlfriend a gift that I hope she’ll accept…”</p><p>I open the box slowly, and Katniss’ eyes shift to the piece of jewelry inside.</p><p>“It’s… a ring,” her voice quivers.</p><p>“A <em>promise</em> ring, not an engagement one, alright?” I say soothingly, slowly letting go of her arm despite her still looking like she’d take off as soon as I let go. “I’m not asking you to marry me, not really. only that you <em>consider</em> it, and maybe, someday—”</p><p>“Okay,” she mumbles. “Yes.”</p><p>“Yes?” I ask stupidly.</p><p>Katniss’ gaze shifts nervously. She nods. </p><p>“So, you’ll allow it?”</p><p>“I’ll allow it.”</p><p>But I need to know for sure we’re on the same page, so I press a little further, “You’ll take my promise ring and consider it?”</p><p>“Yes... I mean, no. I don’t need to consider it,”</p><p>I’m about to panic, but she cuts me off, rambling. </p><p>“I know I’ll marry you… um, someday.” She inhales a shaky, deep breath, closing her eyes. “Can we, maybe, not do this in front of everyone?” She whispers. Desperately.</p><p>“Of course!” I stand up so fast the whole couch lurches forward. I may have to polish my mother’s hardwood floors, or pay someone to do it professionally, but I don’t care! Katniss seems to be agreeing to marry me... maybe, and I can’t feel my legs or the bottom of my stomach for that matter.</p><p>I pull my girlfriend with me into the kitchen while our family stares excitedly, and I throw glares left and right indiscriminately, hoping nobody gets any ideas to snoop around. They don’t know just how much bravery this is taking me and Katniss, and I’m not about to shatter the fine thread holding us together for the likes of them.</p><p>Once we’re out of sight, I cup Katniss’ face in both my hands and look her in the eyes, fear starts creeping up my spine. “Is there anything I need to apologize for? I know you hate PDA and too intimate stuff in front of—“</p><p>“No,” she shakes her head vehemently. “You have nothing to apologize for. In fact…” she inhaled again, and I know she’s doing one of those <em>counting until your fears are manageable</em> exercises, so I let her, and remove my hands from her face slowly. Giving her some room.</p><p>“I’ve been thinking. A lot.” She starts and then closes her eyes, “About the future, and marriage and… even children.”</p><p>I’m floored with this confession, but I bite my lower lip to keep from bursting out some excited nonsense and ruin the moment.</p><p>“So, I’ve been considering it. For some time now— I’m not saying I’m ready to plunge in into marriage, but I'm considering it… really.”</p><p>“Oh, sweetheart… that’s wonderful!” I say stepping closer and kissing her forehead.</p><p>“So… are you gonna give me that ring or what?” She asks, looking up at me under her dark eyelashes.</p><p>“Yes! Oh my gosh. Here!” I scramble to put the promise ring on her finger, before she changes her mind. </p><p>the ring itself is simple, a pearl flanked by two tiny emeralds at both sides. It’s a dainty piece in white gold, not flashy or intrusive, just like she'd like.</p><p>“So, what do you think?” I ask, still nervous.</p><p>“It’s perfect!” She whispers, lifting her hand to admire her ring.</p><p>“Good!” I sigh in relief, kissing her nose.</p><p>She looks up at me, and something catches her eye. She starts laughing, shaking her head ruefully.</p><p>“What?” I ask, smiling, because her giggle is contagious, and then she points up to the wooden beam arching across my parent’s breakfast nook ceiling, and I have to chuckle too, because sure enough, there’s one of Prim’s bundles of mistletoe hanging from the beam.</p><p>“Well, since tradition calls for it,” I cradle her cheeks in my hands and kiss my girlfriend— future fiancée/ perhaps wife or whatever she’s willing to allow— soundly on the lips. And then, because I’m feeling bold, I tell her, “You know, there’s some more mistletoe elsewhere.”</p><p>She looks at me confusedly. <br/>
<br/>
I wiggle my eyebrows suggestively, and explain, “I’m wearing my new Christmas  boxers. You wanna see how they look?” </p><p>Katniss snorts a laugh, “Oh, you’re lucky I'm feeling the Christmas spirit alright. I’m giving you an 11 in a scale of 1 to 10…”</p><p>“Have I’ve shown you my childhood bedroom?” I interject, just a little to eager, “Come this way, my dear… let me show you around, so we can observe some more mistletoe traditions!” </p><p>Katniss’ smile is inviting, and all I can think as we rush off to my old bedroom is that I give this Christmas a 12, in a scale of 1 to 10!</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope this was funny and cute and full of holiday cheer for everyone! </p><p>And the “kiss me there” undies are  <a href="https://www.shinesty.com/products/mistletoe-plaid-christmas-boxers?utm_source=google&amp;utm_medium=cpc&amp;utm_term=&amp;utm_campaign=g-us-shopping-smart-underwear&amp;utm_content=381016521815&amp;gclid=CjwKCAiAoOz-BRBdEiwAyuvA62wCF066hej5hECLciBxiza0MjwaVk3OV9AaHpjzqDquq-0K06e9MhoC4CMQAvD_BwE">Real</a>!!! They even have a “right on the lips” version for ladies 🙈 You’re welcome!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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